Now Starring Ch. 01

I had been working on the series for a year when they announced that the lead was leaving. I had worked with him in harmony for a bit. But once he found out I was gay he kept me at arm's length and if I blew a line or a cue he'd mutter something about fags blowing everything/everyone else so why not? I campaigned, heavily for to replace him in his role, and have someone take over my lesser one, but they turned me down.

When they announced after a few months that they have found a replacement, I fought the rising feeling of resentment at the studio's decision. I felt I should have gotten the lead role; after all I knew the lines and could do just as good a job. When I heard they had found someone, I didn't really know what to expect, I guess I thought they'd have as close to a clone as possible for a replacement. I just hoped he wasn't as much of an asshole.

I went to the first read through and he new guy was not there yet. As the rest of the crew took their seats I went to get some tea from the dispenser, I wasn't really looking where I was going, and rounded the corner and essentially ran over somebody. I am a pretty big guy, around 6 feet tall and I used to play rugby at University, so when we collided I knocked him to ground, hard. As I towered over the prone figure on the floor I hoped I hadn't killed him, because he just lay there, not moving at all. After what seemed like forever he took a deep breath and got to his feet. Much to my surprise he gathered himself up with a big grin on his face.

"Well that was fun," he laughed, "are you OK?"

The first thing that I noticed was he was slightly taller than me, then I gazed into his dark-chocolate brown eyes and felt a bolt of electricity hit me. My trousers felt way too tight as I stood to attention, and I shifted my hands to the fig leaf position, as inconspicuously as I could.

I can't imagine the look on my face, but it must have been comical because his grin widened, he leaned in closer to me and very slowly repeated himself, "are...you...OK?"

"Um... yeah..." I stammered.

He patted my shoulder, still beaming a smile at me, "Sorry I have to go it's been a pleasure." And with that he turned to walk away.

Normally I don't go for the skinny type but as he strode down the hall I had to admire his long legs and tight little ass in his faded jeans. I took a deep cleansing breath, willing my erection to go down. I got my tea and headed back into the reading. The director, Phil, was standing with his back to me talking to someone. When he saw me he turned to introduce me to the new guy, and to my horror it was the man I run down in the hall.

"John, there you are! This is David, David this is John."

David's high megawatt grin made reappearance as he put out his hand, "We've met, just recently in fact. Nice to know your name, big fella."

As my hand touched his I wanted to pull him to me and kiss him, but I resisted and tried to avoid those dark eyes that seemed to peer right into my soul.

David was very professional, but a bit of a clown, during the read through. He cracked people up as he tried out different accents on the lines, instead of his regular mesmerizing, soft Scottish burr. When he launched into an exaggerated Southern American twang, he had people literally holding their sides trying to breathe through the laughter.

We were there for a few hours when Phil called enough and plans were made for rehearsal the next day.

I hovered around waiting to get David by himself. I told myself it was to apologise for running him over earlier, but really I just wanted to get a closer look at him.

I watched him talking to the female lead, Mollie; she seemed as smitten as I was with him. She kept touching him on the arm or playing with his hair and managed to brush her sizable breasts against him as she pretended to pick a piece of lint off of his shirt.

He's not THAT cute, I tried to convince myself. He's got freckles for god's sake, and he's a ginger. OK, dark ginger but still ginger. He caught my eye and flashed an embarrassed grin my way as Mollie grabbed him close in a hug, her hands wandering down to his ass, squeezing hard, copping a feel.

I had to admit, yes he WAS that cute.

After what seemed like ages, for both of us I'm sure, he extracted himself from her embrace and he walked over to me. "Would you like to get a drink?" he sighed, and ran his hands through his hair, his long fingers pulling at the strands, making some of them stand straight up, "I sure could use one."

"I'd like that."

Outside the studio we hailed a cab; "I don't know the area well," David said as we got into the back of it, "know a good place around here?"

I directed the driver to a local hang out and stole a look at David's face; he didn't seem to react to the name of the establishment even though it had quite a wild reputation in some circles.

We sat at the bar and he ordered a beer and so I followed suit. He didn't say anything just concentrated on the drink until it was gone. Then he ordered another and sat back looking at me.

"Sorry, that was just a little unnerving," he admitted, a slight grimace on his face, "I mean, I read the articles on how you felt about me coming on board, so you probably really hate me. There's stepping into a role that was already established by someone else, which is always a risk. And Mollie, phew, I think she's cute, don't get me wrong, but I think in most countries that would be considered sexual assault." He made a squeezing gesture with both hands to illustrate his point. Then he picked up his glass and took a long pull on the beer.

"I can't blame her; if I had half a chance I would have grabbed a handful too," I blurted out before my brain screamed at me to shut the hell up.

David made a little choking sound as he tried not to spit the mouthful of beer out, he set the glass of beer down and put his head down on the bar for a minute, his shoulders shaking. I heard him finally swallow and he straightened up.

I don't know what I expected but a loud hardy laugh and those dark eyes lit up with amusement wasn't it, "I am really flattered, but you're not my type."

"What is your type?" I countered, still trying to recover.

"Female" he replied. Then he looked around the bar, taking in the décor and the distinct lack of women, "is this a gay bar?"

"Yes."

"Aww, our first date and I didn't get you a corsage, how thoughtless of me!" He drained his drink, unfolded his lanky frame from the stool, threw some money on the bar for the drinks and slipped his leather jacket on, "Thanks for this. I really needed it! I look forward to working with you, John."

The bartender and I watched David leave and we both made a low appreciative whistle. We were in our own little worlds when my mobile rang, pulling me back to reality. It was my boyfriend, Vartan. I found my cheeks getting hot in embarrassment as if he had witnessed me ogling another man, we chit chatted about mundane things for a bit but my mind was definitely elsewhere.

"Don't let your mister see you with that other bit of tasty, or he'll gut you like a fish," the bartender winked at me, as the call ended, "but it would be worth it, eh?"

The next day was a blocking rehearsal, and there was a scene where David's character and mine get into a fight. I had sat up late the night before reading the script and relishing in having an excuse to be in physical contact with him. I was so eager to begin I got to the studio early. To my surprise David was already there, script in hand reading the lines to himself and walking through the paces. When he saw me come in he quickly removed and pocketed a pair of glasses and waved at me.

"Caught me," he laughed, "I just want to do this right."

I walked over to him, "do you normally wear contacts?" I asked taking the opportunity to gaze into his eyes.

"Yes, but I fell asleep with them in last night and woke up looking like the living dead," he admitted, taking his glasses out and settling them back on his nose, "I hope they aren't too nerdy."

"No you look fine."

"Thanks," he winked at me; "hey do you want to go over our scenes before the crew gets here?"

"Which part?" I asked, praying it would be the fight scene, the idea of pinning him under me, feeling his taut body pressed beneath mine made my heart race.

"Pick one."

So I did...guess which one?

He closed his eyes for a second and then was in character. He had obviously decided on the accent he wanted, a middle country dialect, and then we began. He never looked at the script; instead he did his lines as I read mine, somewhat distractedly.

Finally we got to the part where my character lifts his up and throws him to the ground; I picked him up and gently set him down on the floor, being careful not to use too much force. He held up his hands, "wait!" then got to his feet.

He picked up the script, flipped some pages, frowning, "it says you throw me, not tuck me into bed."

"I know but there's no mat down and I could hurt you," I protested.

"I'm not made of glass," he got in my face, "Stop being a pansy and just do it!"

His words hit me like a punch in the gut; before I knew it I had him by the shoulders and flipped him over my back, slamming him into the ground. Then I threw myself on top of him, pinning his arms down with my knees. I had my fist balled and was ready to knock his teeth in, when I saw that he was laughing.

"Now that was better," he grinned, beaming up at me.

"You're insane," I countered, "certifiable."

"Why, thank you," he tried to sit up, but I still held him down. His smile faded and a look of panic started to creep into his eyes.

I have to admit I found him powerless beneath me a turn on, "do you want me to let you up?" I whispered my face inches from his.

"I'd like that," he said in his native accent, voice a bit uncertain.

"I will, for a price."

"What's that?"

"A kiss."

"OK, fun time is over, John; you're starting to hurt me." He again tried to sit up.

"Then kiss me," I bent lower, my lips a mere breath from his.

He closed his eyes and raised his lips to mine. I expected a quick peck, nothing more. Instead he lingered a bit longer than I was prepared for, taking my upper lip between his and running the tip of his tongue into my mouth.

As the blood rushed away from my head, I rocked back on my knees, freeing his arms. He sat up, grabbed me around the waist, kicked my legs from underneath me and flipped me over on my back, knocking me off of him. Then he scrambled to his feet, breathing hard and stood over me, eyes blazing. I could feel him fighting for control of himself, every muscle in his lean body tight with anger. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back for a moment. Then he looked down at me again, "I'm sorry for the crack about your sexuality. That was totally uncalled for, and it won't happen again." He reached out a hand to help me up off the floor, "are we OK?"

"Yes, we're OK."

He handed me the script, barely looking at me, and said, "Let's go over the lines again."

We got through a few pages before people started wandering in. David greeted everyone as they entered like they were long lost friends, his bright smile making them smile in return. It was only when he turned to me that the smile faded a bit.

At lunch I sat down across from him, "I'm really sorry."

"Does this stew contain anything at all recognisable?" he asked as he poked at the food on his tray.

"I think that's supposed to be chicken. Either way, as I said, I'm sorry"

"For what?"

"For earlier."

"For making me kiss you?" he asked.

"That too."

He jabbed his fork in the bowl with a stabbing motion, then put a piece of chicken into his mouth chewing thoughtfully, "You didn't make me kiss you, John. I wanted to."

"Come again?"

He looked at me for the first time since I sat down, a slow grin forming, "I think you heard me the first time."

My jaw must have made an impressive noise as it hit the floor and bounced back up, "I thought you were straight!" I tried keeping my voice down.

"I thought I was too," he turned his smile up to full blast, "now eat your food, you're going to need your strength working with me." With that he picked up his tray and sauntered off to the trash bins.

"Now there's an understatement," I muttered to myself.

After week's worth of rehearsals we were declared ready to film. I hadn't really seen much of David past the first couple of day's rehearsals because our characters didn't have too many scenes together, and most of that time he dressed in very casual gear, jeans, hoodies, and t-shirts, etc. So when he came out of wardrobe, dressed in an expertly tailored suit, almost the same colour as his eyes and his hair nicely styled, I was knocked back on my heels. If at all possible he was even more attractive.

Mollie came up next to me and ran her hand over my chin, "Control yourself, John, you're drooling."

"And you're not?" I countered not shifting my eyes from him.

"I'm better at hiding it," she laughed, looking down at me, "you'd better put your script in front of you, you're showing."

I looked down. Unfortunately she was right. I took her advice as David saw us and bounded over. He was just out of earshot when Mollie whispered in my ear, "let's make this interesting. The first one who beds him wins."

"Wins what?" I replied.

"Him, hopefully," she laughed and patted my back, "good luck big boy."

"You look great" Mollie said to David, "very handsome."

"Do you really think so?" he asked, glancing at himself in the mirror. He put his hands in the suit coat pockets, turned one way then another, and then looked back at us, "I don't know. After all you can polish a turd all you want, but all it's really going to be is just a shiny turd."

"Now you're just being modest," Mollie purred running her fingers under the collar of his suit jacket, "you are definitely more than that. Much, much more." With that she waved her fingers and me, blew David a kiss and strutted off.

"Is it me or does she always seem in heat?" David asked watching her leave.

"It's both. It is because of you, and yes she is."

"How do you figure?"

"You can't tell me you honestly have no clue that you are completely hot?" I laughed.

"You say the sweetest things," he chuckled, "and for the record, no, I really don't think of myself as hot. I think of myself as a gawky teenager with spots and wild red hair."

"You really need to update that image, David. You are not that boy now." I gave him a long look over, and then leaned in to whisper in his ear, "in fact just say the word and I'll show you how hot I think you are."

He jumped back as if the heat of my desire burned him, "not just now, but thanks for the offer," he blinked a few times rapidly, "I should really go...over there...somewhere." And he quickly walked away.

"That was smooth," I chastised myself, "just scare him off...great idea!"

When it came time to film the fight scene I was totally in character, the argument leading up to the scene we had rehearsed earlier felt real, coupled with the frustration of David's ability to turn me on and off seemingly at will, came to a head. I lifted him high over my head and slammed his body down so hard on the mat that he went totally limp and was out cold. It took the crew longer to realise, than it did me, that I had actually hurt him.

The on-set medic ran over to him and began checking him out. I stood on the sidelines watching it all, with a growing sense of horror at my actions.

Phil walked over, "John, that was a great take but go easy on him OK? If you break him you'll have to buy us a new one."

"That's not funny," I protested, watching David coming around finally, and the medic trying to get him to remain still, "I didn't mean to do that."

David was helped in a sitting position and given a glass of water. As the medic tested his eyesight and cognition, I caught him looking at me, measuring me up, trying to decide if I had done it on purpose. After convincing everyone he was fine, we finished shooting the scene. Since he had no lines in the next scene David retired to his trailer.

After a decent length I left the set to see how he was doing. I peeked in the window and saw him stretched out on the day bed, staring into space. I knocked on the door, "Yes?"

"It's John, may I come in?"

He came to the door, and looked right into my eyes, I could tell he was in some pain by how stiffly he moved, "What was that all about?"

"Can I come in?"

He stepped back admitting me, but never lost contact with my eyes.

"I didn't mean to be so rough..." I started.

"Bullshit," he spat, "I don't believe that for one second. The truth would be nice here."

I took a deep breath, and broke contact with his probing eyes, "the truth?"

"Yes, please."

"The truth is you're driving me crazy. From the first moment I saw you, I wanted you, and you keep sending me mixed signals. First you tell me you're straight, and then you kiss me like you want me, too." I stepped in very close and took his face in my hands, "then when I try to follow through on that you run away like a scared rabbit. So the truth is, yes in that moment, I wanted to hurt you, make you feel a bit of what I feel when I look at you."

"I see."

I let go of him and sat on the daybed, "that's all you have to say?"

"I can't really think of anything else to say," he turned away from me and gazed out the window.

"Here is a suggestion, try one of these; 'sorry John, you're still not my type' or 'hey John, let's fuck' or 'if you want let's play chess instead?' anything but silence."

"You seem like a decent person, if sometimes a bit of a brute," David looked at me, "I've never found another man attractive before, and I'm not quite sure how to handle that. I have a girlfriend, we've been together five years and I love her very much."

"I have a boyfriend, so what's that got to do with it?"

"Don't you think that we owe it to them, and ourselves to think about this, decide if this is something we both really want?"

I stood up, took his hands in mine, pulling him close to me, "what are you afraid of? I promise to never hurt you again. I can be a very attentive, gentle lover." Then I drew him to me and kissed him, at first he kissed me back and then suddenly pulled away.

"Please, I'm serious, don't push me. I am need to think this through," he pleaded, "I don't even know you!"

"What do you want to know?" I sighed, frustrated as all hell.

"I want to meet your boyfriend. Let's go out, dinner, all four of us; my girlfriend, your boyfriend and you and I. How's Friday sound?"

"You want to size up the competition?" I laughed.

"No, I want to get to know you better."

"Then?"

"I honestly don't know, sorry, that's all I have right now."

I started to leave, getting half way out the trailer door when I turned back, smiling, "how about a kiss to sustain me until then?"

His response was to shove me out the door, slamming it shut and making a rude gesture through the window, but at least he smiled back.

When Friday came, David and I left the studio to meet up with our dates. He talked about Sonja on the taxi ride in, how they met, etc. I saw a smile light up his whole face when he spoke of her and I had to admit I was jealous. I wondered if he would ever talk about me that way.

Vartan had obviously been at the restaurant's bar for a while, he spied David and I entering the door and sauntered over to me, planting a sloppy kiss on my lips.

"So this is the fabled David?" he slurred, giving David the once over.

"Hello, yes, that's me. Nice to meet you," David extended his hand, but Vartan just continued to examine him like a piece of prime beef. After an awkward moment David put his hands in his pockets and turned to look around the restaurant for Sonja.